She Was Asking for It
She was asking for it. I’ve already got some of you pissed. You don’t even know what she was asking for. Maybe she just wanted a cold drink of water, but that’s not where your mind went. You’re sick – just as bad as the rest of this perverted society which will try to destroy her mind, body, and spirit. Nothing that happened was her fault. Not the length of her skirt (just above the knee), not the cut of her blouse (there was still room to imagine her curves), not in the way she walked, or talked, or anything else. The only thing she was guilty of was having a pretty face. More than a pretty face really. Flawless porcelain skin, haunting dark eyes, and a smile which would entice an Angel into sin. The moment I entered the restaurant and saw her bussing tables, I knew what was in store for her. Maybe not today (although I wouldn’t be surprised, considering how she looked bending over the table to wipe it down), maybe not tomorrow walking home from class, but sooner or later someone was going to see this Goddess and force her into submission. The monsters who do it – you don’t think beyond the gratification of the moment. How good it would feel to hold her down while you strip her bare. How soft the skin of her thighs will feel when you crush them in your hands. How she quivers when you enter her, her face contorting in the agony of pleasure. You don’t think about what it will do to her tomorrow when she’s crying herself to sleep. You don’t stop and wonder if she will still flinch when her lover touches her a year from now, or whether she can look herself in the mirror without hating what she sees. She’s lucky I took sympathy on her while I watched her bustle around the restaurant. She smiled at me when she caught me watching – she must have known I was there to protect her. When I slipped into the kitchen after her, it was just a game that made her act surprised. I was her guardian Angel – the only thing standing between her and all the horrors of this world. I asked her name, but all she said was “customers weren’t allowed back here”. It’s good that she was shy, but it wouldn’t be enough. Not with a pretty face like that. Even draining the old cooking grease to take outside, she looked like a model. Maybe she was even trying to become one, unwittingly inviting the entire world to fantasize about what they would do to her. I followed her outside, but she still wouldn’t talk to me. I was starting to get annoyed by this point, but I had to remind myself I was doing this for her good and not my own. Back inside again – now she was threatening to get the manager. But there wouldn’t always be a manager around to protect her. Even I couldn’t always be there. There was only one thing that can save her. I didn’t have to hold her down long. Ten seconds in the fresh batch of boiling grease was enough to cure that pretty face. She struggled hard, but if she couldn’t stop me now, she couldn’t stop her real attacker in the future. Ten seconds was enough for her skin to start melting into the pan. No one was going to hurt her now – not how she looked after I was done with her. She was asking for it, but now she’ll never get it. All because I saved her. Category:Mental Illness Category:Spotlighted Pastas